


Stars Fall

by Gallowmere



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Spydoc, Thoschei, Thoschei are doing the co-dependent dance, but it's mostly one-sided on his end, does this ship have other names?, so no one feels duped by Jack turning up, thirster - Freeform, updated the tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23154202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gallowmere/pseuds/Gallowmere
Summary: Season 12 focused one-shots!
Relationships: Spydoc - Relationship, Thirster, Thirteenth Doctor/Jack Harkness, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Thoschei - Relationship
Comments: 20
Kudos: 116





	1. The Old Boys' Club

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It’s not a follow-up to Time Disruptor (yet), more like some one shots I didn’t know what to do with. So...eh. Enjoy! (May or may not mention stuff raised in the season finale, since I’m most curious where they’re planning to go with it in S13). Mostly this is more of the Master and the Doctor being hopeless and not communicating, but other characters will appear too. 
> 
> (Small trigger warning on part 1 for sexist language and rape jokes)

1: The Old Boys’ Club

If there was one thing the Master hated more than the lousy paperwork he had to do, it was having to listen to the other agents chattering. For humans literally working for an intelligence agency, their chit-chat was awfully...boring. Just everyday discussions about their spouses, or their weekend, or other mundane details in their tiny little lives. He was starting to regret that so much of his plan relied on undercover work. Maybe he should just shrink all of them now and save himself the pain...

No, no. Couldn’t do that. It would ruin all the fun he could have later. 

Over time he either avoided all of them, or learnt to tune it out. It worked pretty well, well enough that he almost failed to notice some of the agents in the office peering out the window. 

That was until Agent F said, “She’s back again already?”

Agent D laughed. “Swanning around like she owns the place, too.”

The Master straightened up and looked out the window by his desk. Sure enough, the TARDIS was parked down below, which could only mean-

He spotted the Doctor waltzing up to the door a second later, hands buried in the pockets of her sky blue coat, easy smile on her face. Honestly, was she actually whistling to herself? 

The tiny smile on the Master’s face froze when Agent D gave a low wolf whistle. “Wonder what it’s like,” he said, and the Master looked up to see him raising his eyebrows at Agent F. “You know, with an alien?”

“Are you serious?”

“What? She’s pretty easy on the eyes.” 

The Master tried to lower his gaze, focus back on the stupid paperwork, but he couldn’t seem to do it. His eye caught a younger agent, Agent S if he remembered rightly. S was listening too, and he looked mildly uncomfortable. 

Agent F hadn’t noticed them paying attention. He was chuckling too. “C’mon. You’re not smart enough for her. Doubt you’re her type.” 

Agent D shrugged, and the Master could feel his grip on his ballpoint pen getting tighter and tighter. “So what?” he said, smirking. “She’s pretty little. Doubt she’d put up much of a fight.”

The Master’s jaw tightened and he breathed in harshly through his nose. He struggled to contain his expression, but Agent S was looking directly at him. The younger agent at least had the decency to look deeply uncomfortable, and the Master realised he might have been hoping for local alien expert Agent O to intervene. 

Alien expert. There was a chance the Doctor had come to see him. 

The Master’s chair clattered as he stood, distracting Dumb and Dumber from the window. He fixed a neutral expression on his face and hurried out the door, intercepting the Doctor just as she appeared in the corridor. She beamed at him, blissfully unaware of the anger that was still seething below the surface. 

“Agent O! Just the man I wanted to-”

He cut her off by taking her arm and shepherding her towards the stairs. “You wanna get coffee, Doctor? I found a great new place.”

She looked momentarily surprised by the physical contact - had he never done that as O before? He couldn’t remember - but then smiled again. “Love a good tea, myself. Do they have that too?”

“Sure,” he said, almost growling the word as other agents turned to watch her pass. Didn’t they have anything else to do? He let go of her arm and tried to relax again. There was no way he was explaining the source of his foul mood. He didn’t even know why he was so bothered...

“O?” She was looking at him, concerned.

“Hmm?”

“Break something?” She was pointing at his hand. 

He looked down, unclenched his fist. He’d brought his ballpoint pen with him without thinking...and crushed it in his hand, the blue ink leaking through his fingers onto the perfect lino floor. 

The Doctor was staring at him, a look on her face like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to ask him about it or not.

He laughed, giving her his best puppy dog smile. He shook his hand, dumping the pen in the first bin he could find and pulling a hander kerchief out of his pocket to wipe his hands with. “Just don’t make them like they used to, do they?”

  
The rest of the day passed quickly and luckily the Doctor didn’t notice anything, but the Master kept going back in his head to earlier that day. 

He was still thinking about it when he took his lunch break in his TARDIS, tinkering around with a new invention. A couple of regenerations ago, comments like that wouldn’t have bothered him at all. He probably would have been the one making them...

But then he regenerated into a woman. An older looking one than the Doctor currently was, but he still could imagine the problems she must have started encountering. People taking you less seriously, or making disgusting passes at you. And the Doctor wouldn’t even kill a couple people to get them to knock it off. 

The young ones seemed to be the worst, especially in the chronically male Mi6. At least crusty old Agent C knew how to behave like a professional. 

The Master finished his tinkering, tapping his fingers as he considered. 

A familiar itch had started under his skin. He had been good for far too long. 

  
He cornered Agent D in a car park after work. All the cameras had been disabled. No one else was around. 

“Appropriate name,” the Master called out. Agent D turned, not remotely alarmed. How had Mi6 ever employed this fool? “Agent D. Did you pick it for your one track mind?”

“What’s your problem?” he said, chuckling. “You trying to stake a claim?”

“You’re really just an animal, aren’t you?” the Master said, dropping the friendly facade completely. Agent D’s face froze, fear starting to creep into his eyes. “I think you should have a size that matches your brain.” 

He raised his TCE and shrunk the compensating-for-something red sports car down to the size of a toy. Agent D cried out, flinching back and looking at the Master with terror. 

“W-What the-”

“Say you’re sorry.” 

Agent D paused, horrified.

“Say. You’re. SORRY!”

The poor animal looked confused. “I’m sorr-”

He didn’t get finish before the Master shrunk him down to size. He knelt down, picking up the mini agent and sitting him in the shrunk car. Just like a little doll. He chuckled, unable to stop himself shivering with the pleasure of the kill. Maybe he could gift wrap it and give it to the Doctor as a paperweight for her TARDIS. Then again, that was just asking to get caught. In the end he dumped the doll car and its occupant in his TARDIS with some other clutter. 

He debated taking care of Agent F, too, but then he thought...nah. He could have too much of a good thing in one day. 

He had bugged Mi6 and was lying in wait outside. The plan was finally getting underway, since Mi6 had finally cottoned on to how useless they were and called the Doctor in. 

He watched through the windows as crusty old C greeted the Doctor and her group. “You really do exist,” he said...to the old man. Someone behind whispered something the bug didn’t pick up and C laughed and said, “No, no, no, I’ve read the files. The Doctor is a man.”

The Master didn’t even have time to grind his teeth before the Doctor’s voice cut in. “I’ve had an upgrade,” she said, the usual cheek in her voice. Pride welled up in his chest. “Hi.”

They were sure to be moving to C’s office now. The Master moved to get in position, weapon in hand. Turned out he was wrong about the old fool - different sort of stupid - but never mind. C was next anyway, along with anyone else in the old boys’ club that got in his way. 

He listened to the Doctor roasting C for having fired him and smiled. 

Let the games begin.


	2. Night in the Outback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I noticed on a rewatch of Spyfall that it’s implied the gang spent the night at O’s, so... Here’s this chapter! Not my best, but hope you enjoy anyways :)

2: Night in the Outback

After Yaz appeared in the chamber instead of the Kasaavin, the group was noticeably shell-shocked. The Doctor most of all; she was noticeably rattled as she demanded the Master let down the glass cage to let her friend out, talking a mile a minute once again to try to reassure her. 

But her usual trick wasn’t working. Yaz - it was Yaz, apparently, he’d better make an effort to remember their names for a bit longer - just stared on, shell-shocked. A mug of tea was pressed into her hand and the two made efforts to calm her down, but nothing seemed to work. The Doctor left briefly in the TARDIS and returned with another friend from elsewhere - Ryan, was it? - and Ryan was able to take her to one side to calm her down. 

The Doctor hovered nearby, impotent once more. “Yaz,” she said suddenly, distracting them from the sandwiches Graham had made. 

Yaz looked up, as if realising the Doctor was still there for the first time in hours. “Yeah, Doctor?”

“...Um. Maybe we...should have the TARDIS check you over? Uh...to make sure you’re OK?”

Something in Yaz’s expression shifted, the first sign of something other than emptiness in it. Though whether it was anger or sadness, the Master didn’t know and didn’t much care. “No, thanks, Doctor,” she said, standing. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.” 

And then she raced inside the TARDIS. Ryan stood too, clearing his throat and making an awkward ‘I’m gonna follow gesture’. The Doctor moved to go, too, but the older one - Graham, he needed to at least pretend to remember that - grabbed her by the shoulder, quickly let go at the Doctor’s look his direction. 

“Just give her a minute, Doc. She’ll come around in the morning.” 

“But...”

“I don’t think poking her around with the chemistry set will help.” He smiled weakly, patting her on the shoulder again before heading into the TARDIS himself. 

“I wasn’t going to -” The Doctor started to protest, but he had already gone. The Master watched her shoulders drop, reading the defeat in the slump of her posture. But the satisfaction he’d been expecting to feel...didn’t come. Just as quickly, the old anger flared up. Why should the Doctor be allowed to have it all, to gallivant around the universe with three adoring friends as if her little adventures were just fun and games?

It had stopped being a game for him a long time since. 

He couldn’t imagine the look on his face, but he knew if she looked at him now the jig would be up. He’d already messed up once, when he made her the perfect cup of tea and had to mumble around how he guessed her preferences. So he hastily muttered, “Just - going to check on the outside defences-”

She didn’t even look at him as he pushed past her. 

\- -

The Master had managed to calm himself down a little as he poked around the outback, idly fixing his defences. He didn’t need them any more, but having something to focus on centred him, kept him calm. Maybe that was why the Doctor persisted in keeping that cronky old TARDIS around - she’d never run out of things to tinker with and fix. Anything to keep her from having to think about things. 

Not that the Master couldn’t understand that impulse, too. He’d only noticed how loud his thoughts were until he’d come to the outback with his two secret agent expendables. 

But he wasn’t the Doctor. He didn’t run. 

He walked back onto the porch, determined to talk to the Doctor. Twisting the knife in the wound? Maybe. But this was about to get a whole lot more dangerous. 

It was about time she realised her companions were going to be in severe danger from here on out. 

He didn’t intend to pull any punches. 

The Master took a deep breath and opened the door. He didn’t spot the Doctor at first, expecting to find her zipping around the room or messing with something. Was she in the TARDIS-?

A noise caught his attention and he looked down. 

The Doctor was lying on his rickety old couch, dozing. It didn’t look like she’d intended to fall asleep - her legs were still resting on the ground, like she’d been sitting down and just tipped over. 

The Master hovered, uncertain whether to wake her. He doubted he’d get much chance to speak with her alone tomorrow, when his plan started... Not with all her hangers-on around all the time, and there was only so much fun he could have messing with them. 

The Doctor fidgeted in her sleep and the Master noticed something beneath her - his coat. It was the coat he’d worn back in freezing old England. He hadn’t needed it here in Australia, had just dumped it on the couch and forgotten about it. 

He moved to pull it free but at that moment the Doctor shifted, turned her face more into the fabric. 

She mumbled something. 

The Master paused. He knelt down by her side. “What?” he asked her softly. 

The Doctor turned back, relaxing again. Her hand had curled into the fabric. “Master,” she mumbled sleepily. 

The Master flinched back, turning into a statue. But the Doctor wasn’t awake, if anything she settled into a deeper sleep. She wouldn’t let go of the coat though, turning and burying her face more into it again. 

He stood back, covering his hand with his mouth to contain himself. It was possible she was just dreaming, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny the obvious. She... recognised the scent on the coat. She recognised him in sleep, even if she ignored literally every hint he dropped in front of her nose (heh) while she was awake. 

He turned around, running a hand through his hair. Why was this so surprising to him? She had been with him a long time. He just hadn’t been with her first and wouldn’t be with her at the last.

Stupid. Should’ve woken her up. Stupid thing to notice. 

He fished out another blanket and laid it over her, going to sit at the table with his hand covering his mouth. 

Forget waking her up tonight. 

There was no way he could control his expression after all.


	3. The Immortal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it’s time for another character!! But there’s not a lot of dialogue this time around. Set after the season 12 finale.

So as losses went, this was one of his least good. The Doctor had (naturally) given him a dressing down that he hadn’t entirely believed, followed by doing her bloody irritating routine of refusing to kill at the exact moment she should have wanted to most of all. He had no intention of letting her off lightly for that little stunt. Let her watch planet after planet follow the same way as Gallifrey, first stop: Earth. If she was really immortal, she could have the fringe benefit of watching the world burn because of her goddamn scruples. 

The Cyberium had taken off, too. Now that was a loss he would mourn. It had been a beautiful thing...

Basically, he was bored again. He took the TARDIS he’d stolen and started tracking, following the trail around for another TARDIS. 

He found one, parked on Earth. Disguised as a house. Couldn’t be hers. She’d never fix that bloody chameleon circuit. 

He kept looking, eventually finding one parked on another planet. He wasn’t sure what she was doing parked out on some near-abandoned sightseeing planet, but at least the views were nice. 

The phone box sat in the middle of a meadow, sticking out like a sore thumb. 

And the Doctor was sat outside it, sitting down in the grass. Her head was bowed, arms wrapped herself protectively. 

Anyone looking could see that she was upset. 

The Master hovered, debating whether or not to go over. But what the hell would he say?

Just then someone else appeared out of the box and sat down next to her. Someone in a long military coat. 

The Master recognised that face, though it took him a second to place it. 

The Captain he’d had so much fun torturing, back in the year he’d been on top. He hadn’t changed much - little older around the eyes, maybe, sure. Too bad he wasn’t Missy any longer. He’d loved to have watched her squirm around trying to explain to dear old Jack how the wicked Master had gone straight. 

But then he hadn’t, had he?

He grinned, about to make his approach. 

Then the Doctor collapsed into tears. 

The Master froze on the spot. He stood there, unsure what to do next. 

She was trying hard to hide it, harder than the skinny one with the suit used to. When had that happened?

The Doctor’s shoulders shook with contained sobs and she hid her face in her hands, but it was too late. The Captain had noticed. 

He raised a cautious hand, stroked her hair. When she didn’t pull away, the Captain pulled her head onto his shoulder, turning and rubbing her shoulders in what wasn’t quite a hug. Even from this distance, the look on his face was so, so easy to read. Dear Captain Jack had feelings for the Doctor, because of course he bloody did.

The anger the Master had felt ever since he found out about the Timeless Child returned. Comfort in the arms of another immortal. He shouldn’t be surprised. 

So why, when he looked at them together, was little Theta and Koschei at the Academy the only thing he was reminded of?

That never-ending cycle; one of them coming to help the other. Over and over and over, no matter how badly he screwed up or she let him down. 

The Master inched back, hid out of sight, then turned around. He couldn't watch any longer.

But not this time. 

Maybe this time he had really pushed it too far.


	4. The Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and the Doctor talk about the events of S12 and other things he missed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this chapter is kind of meta in that it’s a response to some discussions I’ve seen and a statement of how I see Thoschei. Short version: it was the amazing chemistry between Whittaker and Dhawan that got me interested in the relationship in a major way, and the other versions of it in other episodes (mostly talking NuWho here). But sometimes I’ve noticed a distinct ‘purity culture’ where 13 in particular gets backlash or called ‘as bad as the Master’ or ‘mean’ because she’s the first incarnation that is really 100% done with his behaviour. And I don’t think that’s right or fair, as I don’t think she’s done anything wrong (except the Eiffel tower scene where she definitely took it far too far). And as I’ve seen it said elsewhere, there’s the insidious sense of ‘she’s a woman now, she should put up with his BS endlessly and try to fix him instead’ about it all that I just... yuck. So I wanted to explore those thoughts here (consider this a 'don't like, don't read' heads up). Anyways, Jack is partly expressing my thoughts here (though Jack is also harsher than I would be since I feel he would be after everything that happened when he last saw the Master).

4\. The Intervention

The Doctor didn’t say it, but Jack knew the prison break was just the latest in a long line of tiring trials for her, so when she didn’t jump at the chance to go see her friends immediately, he figured offering to make tea would be better. 

“Tea would be great,” she said, flashing him a grateful smile. She fiddled with something on the console, distracting herself, but Jack stopped and studied her. Small, smiley and scrappy would probably be the impression he got for this time around. But also secretive. Secretive, and sad. 

She clocked him watching. “All right, Jack? Need help finding the kitchen?”

Jack shook his head. He raced over to where she was standing with a big, beaming smile, grabbed one of her suspenders and pulled her into the warmest kiss he could muster up, letting her go and lifting her off her feet into a spin while she was still dazed. 

So easy to lift. So skinny, even for someone as small as she was now. 

The Doctor had recovered when he set her back down and finished off with a bear hug, patting him warmly on the back as he squeezed her hard. “Never got to greet you earlier, Doctor,” he said.

“Never change, Jack,” she laughed from within the crush of his embrace. “Never change.” 

He leant back, taking her face in his hands and messing up her blonde hair. “Didn’t get a good look at you before, either.” He examined her as she gave a good natured eye roll. “Well, you are gorgeous.” He noticed the dark roots in her hair. “But how’s this work, Doctor? Is it natural?”

“Sure, why not?”

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, finding the earring chain. “This is new, too.”

“It gets better,” she said, showing him the lining on the inside of her coat. “Look, see?”

“Ah, love it! Where’s it from?”

“Charity shop, Sheffield.” 

He chuckled, finally letting her squirm her face out from his grip. “Sounds like you’re British again though.”

“Absolutely!”

“Not ginger.”

“Not...this time, no.” She shook off the odd pause with a bright smile. “If you like Graham for a silver fox, you’d have loved me the last time around.”

“I always love you, Doctor,” he said, then froze. That had come out far more sincere than he had intended it to and they both knew it. The Doctor cleared her throat, shuffled her feet awkwardly. “So, tea?” he said, beaming.

“Tea. And bring the biscuits too!”

Jack headed quickly into the TARDIS, a wan smile on his face. He combed a hand through his hair. He never learnt, did he? 

Oh, well. It wasn’t his style to feel bad about it. 

\- -

It took nearly the entire teapot before he could get the Doctor to fill him in on everything that had happened. 

“Wait, you met Byron? Mad, bad and dangerous to know?”

“Yeah. Night they were supposed to be telling horror stories. Guess they came up with that for a cover story when people asked where the idea for Frankenstein came from.” 

“...Was he a good kisser?”

She rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t know! Nobody kissed him.”

“Bet he tried it on though.” 

She hummed noncommittally, which Jack figured was answer enough. She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Well, anyway, then we ended up trying to stop the Cybermen in the far future. The last humans were down to seven. The survivors from that tiny group are on modern day Earth right now.”

“Are you going to take them back?” he asked.

“Don’t know yet. Couldn’t blame them if they didn’t want to go. ‘Course, that would mean allowing humanity to die out in the far future.”

“Fair point, fair point...so, how did you escape from the Cybermen?”

The Doctor’s face fell. She took a deep drink of her tea, pulling a disappointed face when it came up empty. “I didn’t. Not really. There was a portal...”

Jack was silent. He was getting the feeling that it was best to let this incarnation talk in her own time, though it was an odd feeling. The conversations he’d had about Gallifrey with the Doctor the last time around suddenly felt a million years ago. 

“...a portal to Gallifrey,” she finished. “I mean, I doubt it normally goes to Gallifrey. I think the portal just finds what a person considers...home. Anyway! Never really got the chance to figure that out.” 

“O...K?”

“To be honest, Jack, this last battle, I...didn’t save anyone. There was someone who threatened to kill my friends and the survivors if I didn’t go with him.” 

“What? Who?” 

Her eyes were on the floor as she practically mumbled her answer. 

“Sorry, Doctor, didn’t catch that?”

“The Master,” she said, meeting his eyes quickly before looking away. “He...came back again.” 

Jack almost choked on his tea and tried to play it off as a cough. “He - he what?”

“Yeah, he uh...really put some effort into it. Pretended to be a secret agent for years, just to trip me up, I guess.” 

Jack’s draw had dropped. “Wait, back up, you mean the one who ran for Prime Minister?”

“No.” The Doctor was clutching her arms in close, now looking downright miserable. “He’s had other faces since then.” 

Jack studied her, taking in the slumped slope of her shoulders and unhappy downturn of her mouth. He gathered his nerve and said abruptly, “What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Doctor. You can talk to me. I know how thorny anything related to home is for you.” 

She fidgeted a bit, then sighed. “If I tell you, can you keep it from the rest of the fam? I...I don’t want them to have to deal with this stuff.”

That was new, Jack thought, but he kept it to himself and nodded. He felt lucky she was willing at all, and in that distance was suddenly hit by the fact that it could have been hundreds of years since she saw him last. 

That feeling was only worsened by the weak smile she gave him as thanks. “Well, it all started when I met this woman masquerading as a welcome robot...”

\- -  
  
Jack got the distinct feeling that the Doctor was only giving him the broad outlines of the situation - met Missy, tried to help her - even travelled with the mass-murdering lunatic for awhile! - and it didn’t work out. And now the Master was back with another face, going merrily slaughtering on his way once again. 

“...And he wants to kill me more than ever. So, yeah,” the Doctor said, shrugging off the whole account. “That’s...pretty much the whole sitch.”

“That sounds awful,” Jack said slowly, trying his best to keep the resentment from swelling in his chest when he thought back to what the Master had done to him - not just to him, but to Martha’s family, and to Earth, the place the Doctor supposedly loved above all else...

She was watching him, a deeply tired look on her face. “I’m really, really sorry, Jack. Last time, it didn’t start out like that, I promise you. It was just business as usual. Then she acted like she really - really wanted to change. And I wanted to believe it as much as...” She cut off, not letting herself finish. Her hands clamped tighter around her arms. “I just don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried pleading, reasoning, helping, forgiving... Nothing works.”

“Doctor...”

“What more could I have done?” she said, though it sounded like she was talking more to herself. “I forgave her trying to get me to kill my own friend, one of the best friends I ever had. I held vigil over her body for a thousand years.”

“No, Doctor, listen-”

“Is it because I play the game? Because I liked tangling with him, matching wits? Because I’ve fought back and stopped him? How different are we, really?”

“No, Doctor.” He grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, letting go as soon as she met his eyes. “You listen to me. Defending yourself and your friends does not make you as bad as the person trying to kill all of you, and if he ever tells you as much, you tell him from me: that’s a shitty little gaslighting head game, and it won’t fly. He’s been nothing but a murderous terror to you since you returned, how could you possibly think there’s no difference between you?”

“Jack-”

“I can’t tell you how to view your... history together, but I can tell you something about the present: you don’t owe anything to someone who does nothing but spit on you and betray you. If he wants your friendship, he should act like your friend. And that - that’s all there is to it.” He stopped, clearing his throat awkwardly at the wide-eyed look she was giving him. “You might not always make the right call, Doctor - and I’ve been there once or twice, trust me - but there’s a big, big difference between someone who spends all their time trying to help people and someone who runs around murdering people for fun.” Jack couldn’t contain his bitterness by the end, practically spitting the last word. He was almost shaking with anger, partly from remembering back to how the Master had tortured him - he’d done well to move on from it, he had to give himself that - and partly from the thought of what he’d done to the Doctor. 

But maybe most of all, from that baffled look she had on his face, like she didn’t quite understand how he was so angry at what the Master had gone. 

Like she had just accepted it was business as usual. 

No wonder she looked so damned exhausted. 

She turned away, leaning back against the console. “Yeah. Yeah, I...get what you’re saying,” she said, sounding completely unconvincing. “I just...I’m not sure what to do next. He’s just broken, in a different way than when you knew him.”

“And it isn’t your job to try and fix him, Doctor.”

She carried on as though he’d never spoken. “Back then, he still wanted to survive. He was still driven to. But now, I don’t think he even cares that much. He wants to be killed. He wants me to kill him.” She turned to him, brown-green eyes grieved. “I just don’t see a way for this to end well.”

Jack shook his head, thinking. “Then maybe you should try something different.” 

She raised an eyebrow with an expectant look. He was sure he saw a hint of desperation in her eye. “Like what?”

“Don’t play his game anymore. Treat him like any other enemy who’s trying to hurt you. Draw a line in the sand and tell him if he crosses you, he’s done.”

“Give him what he wants? Sink to his level?”

“Doctor, I told you once - protecting yourself and others from his lunacy is not ‘sinking to his level’. I know you - you’d rather not, if you could avoid it...but like I said, there’s a difference. If sending him to his grave thinking he’s won some sort of twisted victory over you is the cost, I’d take it. Otherwise, how do you ever hope to stop him?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again, the weight of her sadness so apparent he almost went to hug her again. He settled for grasping her shoulder and gently rubbing it with her thumb. “And if you’re still having trouble,” he said, softly and with the best cavalier smile he could manage, “Give me a call. I don’t have any qualms about sticking it to him.” 

She chuckled softly before brushing his hand away. “Thanks, but that’s OK. I need to handle this one myself.”

He wanted to protest, but she suddenly tipped forward and rested her head against his shoulder. Her shoulders heaved in a deep sigh. Jack stood there, embarrassed to feel the sting of his old crush rearing its head again. But he hoped more than he hoped for anything else that his words had gotten through to the Doctor.

“What is that you think is worth saving there?” he mumbled softly. She shook her head and said nothing for a long, long moment. In the end, she never did answer him.

But he had the awful sinking feeling maybe she didn’t think there was anything. 

But she wanted to save him anyway. 


	5. A Comfort Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank y’all again for the reviews! This is a shorter one, and a bit more mushy than the last one. There’s still a bit of angst, but only like, 10% comparatively.

5\. A Comfort Blanket 

It started with a headache. The Doctor couldn’t quite shake it, found it kept distracting her throughout the day. She gave into the urge to rub her temples, but still couldn’t shake it off. It was still there after the day’s adventures, distracting her from her tinkering with the TARDIS. 

“Doctor?” Yaz asked. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” she said, letting go of the dial. She couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to know what she was doing anyways. “Yeah, just a bit of a head wonk. Not to worry.”

Yaz did looked worried. The Doctor couldn’t really blame her. It wasn’t her habit to admit something hurt unless it really hurt, which made this a bit of a counterproductive outcome, now she was thinking about it. 

“Oh,” Yaz said, looking her over. Maybe this was a cop thing, but between her and Graham, the ship had its share of worry-warts. “D’you need some painkillers?”

“Nah, I’m all right...” She tried to flash Yaz her usual breezy smile, but a particularly harsh pain lanced across her head and she couldn’t help but wince. “Ow. Actually, ow.”

Yaz was at her side in a flash, hand hovering by her sleeve. “Doctor? Can - can I help?”

“No, it... It’s all right.” She straightened up, supporting herself on the TARDIS console. The Doctor peeled away, wobbling her way from the console and down the stairs. “I... I think I just need to lie down for a bit. Can you ask the guys to hang out a bit?”

“Yeah, sure...” Then Yaz called after her, “And, Doctor?” She gestured to her phone and pointed to the Doctor’s pocket. “Call me if you need anything.”

The Doctor waved her thanks and kept heading into the TARDIS. The headache was rapidly mounting, feeling like it was threatening to tear her skull in two. Right now, all she wanted was a dark room and a pile of blankets she could bury herself under. 

\- -  
  
In the depths of dreams, a voice came through to her. At first she couldn’t make out what it was, man or machine, biped or beast.

But it was a cry. A distressed one. 

Images came through to her. 

Fire. 

Darkness.

Standing alone in a total void. 

And falling, and falling, and falling. 

She woke with a start, gasping. The pain had finally eased, replaced by the cry echoing all around her skull. 

A psychic distress signal. 

The Doctor rushed back into the console room. Now all three of them were there, just talking amongst themselves. Graham spotted her first. 

“All right, cockle? Yaz said you were under the weather.”

“I will be,” she said, flipping the switches on the console. “First, got a call to answer. Up for it?”

“Here we go again,” Ryan muttered, but he was smiling as he got up. The Doctor felt a rush of gratitude at having them with her. 

Whatever it was, she was sure she could handle it with them by her side. 

\- -

Rassilon help her, she couldn’t handle this. 

The TARDIS had landed them on a pretty nondescript planet. Green and verdant, a nice picnicking spot, even. Not much local wildlife, except for some galumphing elephant like creatures in the fields below. 

And at the top of the hill, a man sitting hunched over in a familiar purple suit. Curled up on himself. Visibly shaking. 

“We could catch him,” Ryan broke the silence by saying. “Throw him in the TARDIS, take him somewhere safe where he can’t ‘cause you no more trouble? Doctor?”

“Huh? Oh...right.”

“Ryan’s got a point, Doc,” Graham chimed in. “After everything that went down on Gal...you know, it might not be a bad idea to put him somewhere out of the way.”

“Or we could just go,” Yaz whispered, surprising the Doctor by tugging at her arm. “This might be a trap.” 

“You said you heard him in your head?” Ryan asked. 

“I heard...something.” The Doctor kept watching the Master, sure somehow that he didn’t know they were there. And there was something about how curled up he was that made her certain of something else. He hadn’t...intended to broadcast the message. It had gotten away from him. 

And that hadn’t happened since they were children. 

“Listen, fam, I...” She turned to face them but Ryan suddenly grabbed her hands, blindsiding her. Were they especially handsy today, or was she imagining things?

“No.”

“Huh?”

“This is the part where you tell us to stay here, it’s too dangerous, you have to go alone. Not this time, Doctor, right?” He looked at the others for backup and they nodded their agreement. “D’you know how awful it was when he abducted you right in front of me and I couldn’t do nothing about it?”

“That’s not on you, Ryan...”

“Even still. Let us back you up, at least. We’re your friends, and we got your back. Clear?”

She looked at the others and they nodded fiercely. “Thanks, fam,” she said, softening. “But if I tell you to run...just do it, OK? I know he’s...unhinged...but I’ve got a track record. I know how to handle him if it comes down to him, OK?” 

At least, she used to, she thought to herself. But that wouldn’t be reassuring, so she didn’t say it. 

They all nodded. They let the Doctor lead the way, even if the three of them were flanking her closely she felt unexpectedly teary about it. They really were her fam, weren’t they? 

If only she wasn’t the Doctor, and her life didn’t involve running into life-threatening danger, it’d feel better letting them in on escapades like this...

But that thought quickly escaped as her as she quickly came to the Master’s side. He still hadn’t noticed her. And now she was by his side, it was obvious: he was crying. 

Not crying, sobbing. 

Here was the source of the psychic noise. She doubted it had been intentional on his part. Even this close, his thoughts were a noisy, disordered mess. 

The Doctor debated what to do. Maybe it’d be easier if she knew what he was crying for. For Gallifrey? Probably not...he had been practically jovial about all the destruction he had caused, joking tastelessly with her when he hadn’t been hissing at her and trying to break her. 

For her? Small chance of that, probably... He had been angry, but not enough to just hand her the truth. No, it was just another item on the pile of things he hated about her. 

For himself, then? More probable, but then...why? Anger and envy had been his speed so far.

One way to find out. Do her usual trick of putting her hand in the bear trap. 

She knelt down, slowly, slowly, until she was by his side. He must know she was there by now. He always seemed to sense her, even when she couldn’t see who he was until she couldn’t deny it any longer. But he didn’t move. 

She raised her hand, even slower, as slow as possible, to touch his arm...

He wasn’t crying for her. Not possible. He’d shove her away as soon as she tried to touch him. 

Closer...closer...

She could feel the fam all collectively draw a breath in. 

The Doctor touched his arm. 

Immediately the Master’s head snapped up and he turned furious eyes that shone with tears on her. She didn’t have any time to react as he spun around-  
“Doctor-” Ryan cried -

And the Master threw his arms around her middle and started weeping openly, just like a small child. The Doctor froze, in total shock, and the Master just clung to her harder, his hands gripping her coat at the back with so much force she thought it might tear. 

She looked over at the fam, finding them as shell-shocked as she was. 

A prickling in her mind, like he was trying to talk to her telepathically but it was as incomprehensible as him trying to talk would have been. 

She turned back to him, raising her hands again and gently resting them on his back. Holding him back. 

Even now, part of her still thought - maybe always thought - why was she doing this? Why was she doing this when he was an unrepentant killer and had said as much to her face?

But she already knew why. 

It wasn’t just her head that hurt, her chest did too. It was tight, her heart reacting against her wishes. It always did, and it probably always would when he was in pain. She would always want to do something, anything to help when he was hurt. 

And she could hope, no matter how increasingly naive that hope was, that he would do the same for her. 

What other constants in her life did she even have left anymore?


	6. The Adelaide Gallery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post S12. Yaz comes up with an idea to try and find the Doctor, but stumbles on a hidden world instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I should probably mention, given these are oneshots, they’re kinda...out of order. Like, there’s no strict chronology and these aren’t necessarily even happening in the same timeline. So if the Doctor and Master go from being on kind of the same page for five minutes in one oneshot, to at each other’s throats in the next, that’s why. 
> 
> This one’s a bit different, since it focuses on the companions post s12.

6 The Adelaide Gallery

At first Yaz had been able to keep herself distracted when she returned to Earth. They had had to find new identities for the humans who had come from the future with them and that had been tricky enough. Graham especially had been helping his new lady friend get adjusted, while Ryan caught up with his work and schooling. 

Yaz tried to get used to life without the Doctor, but it was hard. She’d be doing fine, then something would blindside her and she’d be back on the cold floor for the rest of the day. 

Like one day she was on the beat and had to chase a perp. She’d gotten so good and so quick at running that she had them pinned down in seconds, the story being so impressive it even made it back to her superior. 

Then they offered her the thing she had wanted all along: a more interesting shout in future. 

And she hadn’t even got the energy to be happy about it. 

So she did something both proactive and ridiculous. She started looking for information about the Doctor. 

It was a crazy theory, but one that she was sure made some sort of sense. If she could just find information that the Doctor had been on Earth in a time period that the others didn’t recall having been with her, that had to mean that she had survived.

She had survived and just hadn’t found her way back to them yet, but the visits in other time periods would have already happened because of how time travel worked...she hoped. 

She texted her theory to Ryan, who tried to explain it to Graham, who Ryan reported back to her had said: ‘Thinking about it’s doing me nut in, but tell her I hope she finds something’. 

But Yaz didn’t find much. Every time she found information on the Doctor that wasn’t some redacted government source, it turned out to be about a man.

Why are you calling me ma’am? The Doctor had asked. 

Because... you’re a woman, Yaz had said. 

Then the Doctor had smiled that luminous smile, maybe the first time Yaz had ever seen it. Am I? Does it suit me? 

And Yaz hadn’t known what to say. 

“It does suit you,” she said softly, sighing to herself. She couldn’t imagine the Doctor any other way than she was now. Yaz supposed other people must have felt the same way. 

Well, at least their was one plus side. If most of the Doctor’s incarnations since coming to earth had been male, that would make narrowing down the relevant information easier. 

Eventually she ran dry with official channels. She figured it would happen sooner or later, but she would have to try the weird world of online theories. 

With how secretive the Doctor had been, she was actually kind of surprised at herself that she hadn’t tried this sooner. 

And she was even more surprised with the huge amount of results that she found. Yaz almost wasn’t sure where to start, until she found a forum that looked reasonable - Something Completely Different (dot com) - with a pretty consistent set of users, who were generally respectful and enthusiastic about sharing what they knew. 

Yaz went to a subforum dedicated to ‘first female Doctor on Earth??’ and started poking around the threads. There was discussion of some of their adventures on Earth, and others that were speculation from the forum users. Some of the guesses were way off base, but one adventure everyone agreed the Doctor was involved in was Tesla and his tower. The users were actually pretty good at noticing odd details that would suggest alien involvement, and they commented themselves whenever they thought a theory was outlandish but wanted to share it anyway. There were even detailed threads commenting on the merits of pacifism versus the inconsistencies of different moral stances - it was pretty fascinating when she started digging into it. 

The comments had the same sort of energy Yaz herself had when she first started travelling with the Doctor - a sort of starry-eyed excitement at it all. Some of the comments gave Yaz the impression that the commenter wanted nothing more than for the Doctor to crash into their front room and abduct them from their boring, dull lives. 

What would they think if they knew that was exactly what had happened to Yaz?

One comment caught her eye:

I don’t think I’d even care if I ended up dying in the past, or on some far-off planet. Anything’s better than my life rn

Even if I did something really small that helped save someone, that’d be better than anything I’ve done with my life so far

Yaz felt a catch in her throat, the pain coming over her again. 

She regretted it over and over, all day long. The Master was a dangerous lunatic with an equally dangerous army, but they could have figured something out. They shouldn’t have just left her there - Yaz should never have left her there. 

Every time the Doctor had pushed her away, tried to keep her safe... Yaz had just gone along with it. 

What sort of police officer was she, in the end?

Another thread caught her eye, with a title that lifted her spirits a little: The Adelaide Gallery. 

Yaz didn’t recognise that location. And it was a time period she didn’t remember having been to, the 1840s. 

She eagerly clicked on it, finding a long scroll of text. 

Old snippings taken from the Adelaide Gallery, 1840s. It seems like there were photos that never made it into the newspaper reports at the time, and they look a hell of a lot like you-know-who!

Heart pounding, Yaz clicked on the link. 

It was the Doctor, all right - but she was wearing a dark suit...the tux. Yaz’s heart sank. This must have been when the Doctor had been time-hopping to get back to them. 

But as she looked as the grainy photograph further, she noticed a couple of odd things. 

The Doctor was...kneeling? And she was facing someone else...Yaz’s throat tightened. 

Oh. She should have known. 

It was the Master, looking sharp as ever in a period suit. He was looking down on the Doctor with a weird expression. Yaz had never seen that look on his face before, even when he was O. He was staring down at the Doctor, completely absorbed by her. The Doctor was facing away so Yaz couldn’t see what her expression was - were they speaking to one another? - but something about the situation was...odd. The Doctor was in a vulnerable position - the bastard must have ordered her to kneel - but the Master didn’t look smug or even pleased by it. 

He looked like he was teetering on the edge of something. What that something was, Yaz didn’t like to think about it. 

She was a cop, not a detective, but she’d picked up another around the office to know when the full picture had been obscured from her. 

There was more than just the destruction of Gallifrey that the Doctor had kept secret, a lot more. 

And she would bet anything it had something to do with the Master. 

Yaz scrolled down, found a second picture. In it, the Master was now kneeling at the Doctor’s level, saying something to her with the same intense look on his face. 

The comments below it were pretty animated. 

Look who’s back.   
12:10am

Found the corresponding article about this. It sure reads like something odd was covered up.  
1:15pm

Shrinking device returns???  
1:30pm

Can’t be, he could have just shrunk the Doctor with it then?  
1:35pm

Nah, that’s not how they roll.   
1:40pm

Dudes, it’s not a good thing for us if he’s back.  
1:50pm

Who cares? The Doctor always stops him. Get the popcorn and enjoy the show!  
2:00pm

Yaz gnashed her teeth. These stupid strangers were treating this like it was all some game! Her fingers itched and she fought down the very strong impulse to make an account and clue them in on just how awful the Master could be...but she fought the impulse back down. 

Doing that wouldn’t bring the Doctor back, which was the whole point of this endeavour to begin with. 

She clicked around, finding more threads about the Master that went down nearly as many rabbit holes as the Doctor ones did. Where the Doctor turned up in descriptions as either a guardian angel or a friendly meddler, accounts the forum users speculated were the Master were all him either hurting people for fun, or doing weird things like showing up out of nowhere and watching The Clangers for fun.

Some of them talked about him like he was charming, fun and just slightly off-kilter, rather than the unhinged liar she had known. 

Yaz pushed her mouse away, frustrated. 

This wasn’t getting her anywhere. 

Chances were, things were just the same as before. The Doctor was dead after using an awful weapon on her own home planet, just to stop her so-called former friend from unleashing an un-killable army on...well, the rest of the galaxy, Yaz supposed? She wasn’t really clear on that, and the thought alone was ridiculous to think about, even just in her own head.

She sighed. She bookmarked the pages that interested her and picked up her phone to text Ryan and Graham.

She really needed to talk to the both of them. They were, after all, the only ones that could understand nowadays. 

Yaz took one last look at the grainy Adelaide photos. Well, if she had to deal with the awful thought that she would never see the Doctor again, she could at least comfort herself with the thought that Earth should be safe from the Master, too. 

A new comment stuck out to her:

Stopping him isn’t enough. He always comes back. He’s like the Road Runner, he just won’t go down!  
2:50pm

Yaz growled and slammed the computer lid shut. She didn’t like to think of the awful death the Doctor might have had, but if she never had to see the Master ever again? That would make it more bearable.


	7. Asymmetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She no longer needs him. He's sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is both the longest and the shippiest of all of them (even then, it’s still pretty mild), probably since I find their ability to be close friends and enemies at the same time interesting. Anyways, thanks to my reviewers! Hope you enjoy this one. I might push this one to ten chapters, so if you have any PG-13 ideas or prompts feel free to share them!

7 Asymmetry 

The Master had long since known his relationship with the Doctor was, fundamentally, asymmetrical. It hadn’t been that way at first, of course; he took pride in reminding anyone who needed reminding that the Doctor had approached him that first day at the Academy, all puppy-dog eyes and nervous energy. 

The Doctor had been as devoted to the Master then as he was to the Doctor, though they didn’t call themselves that at the time. The Doctor had followed him around, admired him, killed for him...it was really that last one that had gotten the Master completely sunk into their relationship in a way he hadn’t been with anyone before. He wanted to be with the Doctor all the time, travel the stars like they promised. 

Then the trials happened, the drums. 

And then the Doctor left. 

And the Master was alone. 

Rationally he knew the Time War was some of it, and the Master’s new, less than wholesome habit of killing anyone who stood in his way was the rest of it, but outside of that...all he could think was, why did he leave me? 

And then, the ultimate insult to injury: the Doctor had begun to run around with humans. Make friends with them. Love them, even. 

The Master had never loved anyone else in his life. 

They had both been married before, both to humans. But only the Doctor really cared for the primitive animal he wedded. 

He had had some hopes with this incarnation, with the way she was withholding information from her companions like she never had before. Maybe she would try to reason with him again. Maybe, once he vented all the poison from his rage, it would finally leave him. 

But she didn’t try. For the first time in thousands of years, he actually had to wonder if he’d worn out her patience for good. 

The Doctor was good at a lot of things. Running to avoid facing the crushing weight of...just everything, all the time. Running some more. Running to survive. And lying, to whoever she needed to (not to him, surely not to him). 

But giving up on people? That had never been one of them. The Mi6 files even mentioned this version prided herself on second chances. 

So why not for him?

He dived down deep into that, coupled with the ever-present pain of the Timeless Child, she’s the Timeless Child, and decided: so be it. 

If I’m right, he thought, she’ll prove me right. Let me do the worst I can think of. 

After all, why shouldn’t I? She just doesn’t want me anymore. 

Me, the first person she ever killed for. 

(...Probably.)

There had been no time to hurt Ko Sharmus, the ignorant fool who got in his way, as badly as he would have liked. He had to escape, leaving behind his perfect hideous army and the Cyberium in the process. 

But after that, he had no idea what to do.

For some reason, his TARDIS couldn’t seem to detect hers, and no signs of her telepathic energy came to him. It went like that for days, then years. 

So the Master gave himself a rare treat: time to lick his wounds. He travelled space and time in his own borrowed TARDIS, visiting the haunts that used to be he and the Doctor’s favourites. A goodbye to himself, a hello to sinking as low as he possibly good. He used the TCE to clear out bars and have some space, but outside of that, he didn’t kill. He was in too foul a mood to get any enjoyment out of it. 

Even that got too depressing, so he let himself sit amongst the noise and the other aliens, trying to disappear, trying not to feel. 

The problem with having the smarts he had, was it opened up so many possibilities for misbehaviour. So many places across so many galaxies where he knew he could get his hands on something to help him. 

Make him numb. Make him happy. 

Make him forget. 

That was a dark road, not one he could get himself out of easily. 

It was perfect.

He ended up on a bar at the far side of the universe, managing to slip past while the owner had an argument with a lone Judoon. The bar inside was busy, packed to the seams with people from galaxies all over. This was the perfect place to find something to blow his brains out with - it was pretty obvious the place was crawling with criminals, cyber-trash and gamblers. 

The Master pushed his way through the bar, looking for an open space to sit. He spotted an open space at the other end of the room and shoved his way towards it, then stopped dead.

The space was there because the crowd had parted a little to give someone space - a woman in dark clothes, with blond hair. 

She looked different out of the sky-blue coat, but he recognised her instantly, the familiar way her hair fell at the back.

The Doctor. 

He slipped his hand into his pocket, gripping his TCE, and moved silently through the crowd. 

But as he got closer, he saw something was clearly wrong. There was a break in the crowd because the Doctor was bending forward, gripping onto a chair so hard her knuckles were white, her shoulders hunched up. The Master moved carefully to one side, relying on her not to notice him in the crowds.

Small chance of that. When he was able to get a view of her face, her skin was ash white, her eyes wide and just...staring, into the distance. The blue-skinned alien by her side had given up trying to talk to the Doctor and was worriedly asking patrons nearby what to do.

“Should we get the manager?”

“Forgot the manager, we need a shrink. Or a doctor.”

Clear distress on the Doctor’s face; she tried to say something and couldn’t get a sound out. The Master growled to himself and shoved his way through the crowd.

“Move. I’m her friend, move!”

The crowd parted for him and the Doctor looked over, too beside herself to say a word. He raised his hand towards her temple. “Can I?”

She stared at him, a strange distance in her eyes, before nodding. The Master rested his hand against her temple, making a connection. 

Images flashed through his mind - disjointed memories like the ones he had seen in the Matrix, of other faces, other lives. Something was playing out in front of the Doctor and she couldn’t do anything but let it happen. 

He’d done this. Showing her the most of what he could find had broken the seal, and now all her repressed memories were flooding back. 

He leant back and offered her his hand. “I know a good place to stay near here. Take my hand.”

She considered and for a second he was sure she was about to say never again, but after a second she just took his hand quietly. 

The Master walked the two of them out of the bar, getting the Doctor away from the noise and out to the corridor. They stopped at the top of the stairway, the Doctor letting go of his hand to grip the banister. He could see the memories going through her in the tension in her shoulders, the white-knuckled grip, her ragged breathing. 

“How bad is it?” he asked. She turned her face away and he reached over to rub her shoulder. “Sorry.” She looked back at him, shocked. “I denied you the pleasure of killing them yourself.”

She rolled her eyes and looked away again. But slowly, slowly, her shoulders dropped and she relaxed. She looked over at him with exhausted eyes. “All right,” she said softly. “We can go now.”

The Master grabbed her wrist in his hand and led the way down the stairs. The Doctor could walk without aid but let her lead him without complaint, the whole situation reminding him of when they were children. How they’d take turns to look after one another...how Theta would have his back when no one else did. 

The place he led them to was a small traveller’s inn, one of the few places he was on good terms with the owner for chasing away rabble-rousers. Today, though, the man looked skeptical. 

“If she’s sick, I don’t want her in here.”

“She’s tired. We travelled a long way.”

The Doctor stood quiet behind him, trying to look composed. It was hard when her skin was pallid and she looked like she wanted to faint any second. 

The owner shook his head. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but-”

“My wife is just tired,” the Master repeated, the Doctor giving him a look but saying nothing. “I guarantee you, we will not be any trouble.”

“Oh.” The owner took another look at her, then smiled at the Master. “Why didn’t you just say so? Here. Double room this time?”

“Um...sure.” The Master couldn’t very well ask for separate beds without putting a bit of a crimp in his lie, so he took the key. He moved to escort the Doctor up the stairs, but she shook him off and headed up, alone. Her steps were heavy, lethargic.

“Anything I can do to help? Your poor wife looks like she’s been through it.”

“Yeah,” the Master said, lump in his throat. “She has.”

“What happened?”

“There were people who hurt her...hurt me, too. So I hurt them back. I don’t think she liked that much.”

“But you were getting revenge for her?”

It sounded nicer to say it was for her. Hadn’t it partly been for her? He nodded, his throat dry. “But it still hurts. The monsters are all gone but it still hurts.”

“At least she has you. Couples need one another, at times like this.”

Tears pricked the Master’s eyes. This damn new body. All it wanted to do was grieve, and grieve, shrink some people, then grieve some more. 

He headed quickly up the stairs. 

The Doctor had left the door open so he managed to find the right room. She was throwing her coat over a chair when he came in, her usual clothes replaced with a plain black shirt and trousers. He didn’t have the heart to ask where the usual outfit was. 

She slipped off her boots and climbed into one side of the double bed without so much as looking at him, burrowing into the covers and settling down on her side with a weary sigh. “I just need to sleep it off,” she said, shutting her eyes. “Thanks for the room. Resume normal service tomorrow.”

He shut the door and locked it. “Normal service?”

She shrugged. “Oh, y’know. Evil plans. That sort of thing.”

He folded his arms and said nothing. She lay still, but as time stretched it became obvious she couldn’t sleep. She was tense and shivering under the covers, fidgety too. Eventually he took pity on her and knelt down, hand hovering over her temple. “Need help? Just this once.”

She opened her eyes and looked at him. The Doctor bit her lip, hesitated, then took his hand. She looked pointedly at the other side of the bed, then back at him. He raised an eyebrow. Was she actually...?

“Are you serious?” he asked quietly. 

She looked down, then nodded. The Master considered. The urge to reject her was so, so strong, but...

He slid his shoes off and walked around to the other side of the bed. He didn’t get under the covers, though, just laid on top of them with his back to her. 

“How does it feel?” he asked. “They’re flashbacks, right? How does it feel?”

She didn’t answer for a while. He started to think she wasn’t going to when she said, “Physical. I feel when they’re coming on, then it’s like I live all the experiences again...all the stress, all the sadness. All the emotions again, like a wave...And I see things. I see young men and women, boys and girls... I know they were me once, but I see it from the outside. Like it happened to someone else, even though I know it was me.” 

She had started to shiver again. He could feel the tension coming off of her in waves. 

The Master slid off the bed, then got under the covers. He scooted over until he was practically spooning her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Not much.” 

They were quiet again. The Master wanted to reach out to her, but couldn’t help thinking, You left me. You left me to die. You were going to let him kill me. 

You were going to take over the world with an endlessly regenerating army, she thought back. Apparently he hadn’t been quiet enough. Was I supposed to sit back and let you do it?

You could let me win. Just once. Where’s the harm?

But instead of the self righteous spiel he expected, she merely thought back, It won’t satisfy you. 

He waited for her to ask the obvious follow up - what would satisfy him? - but she never did. Stung, he thought back, Why couldn’t you do it? Too scared to die?

An immediate response, so sober and matter of fact it brought him up short. No. I’m not afraid to die. 

The Master frowned in the dark, not sure how to follow that. If she wasn’t scared to die then...she didn’t want to kill him herself? The cynical part of his mind thought, she just didn’t want to be responsible for the killing directly. 

Hypocritical, or hope-giving. 

He didn’t like his options.

The Master shifted, reaching his arm out and sliding it around her middle, pulling her against him possessively. She tensed, a little surprised, then raised her arm. He expected her to pry his grip away, but she just laid her hand on top of his. Then she looped their fingers together, gripping hard. 

They lay together in the dark in silence. The Doctor’s trembling was starting to calm, and she was receptive when the Master opened another telepathic link. Not to talk - bicker - this time. So they could just...be. But together. He felt tension draining from him, too, the feeling of being with her, their minds together, like seeing places he hadn’t in a long time, like coming home. 

He realised it was the first time in a long time that the both of them couldn’t care if they lived or died. 

“Look what they’ve done to us...” he said softly. Then, telepathically, How can you care I killed them? How can you?

He didn’t get an answer, though, because the Doctor had finally fallen asleep. 

\- -

It was an odd, broken night - the Doctor was having persistent bad dreams, and the Master would find himself comforting her in the middle of the night.

But it just kept happening.

The third time, when his sympathy was starting to turn to frustration and murderous rage at the Time Lords again, he remembered something else.

Something he used to do a long time ago, to help Theta when he was scared. It probably wouldn’t work now, but he tried it anyway.

He rubbed a gentle circle at the base of her neck, where it always used to soothe her when they were children.

The Doctor calmed down straight away. 

The Master swallowed down a lump in his throat. She slept the rest of the night peacefully. He knew, because he couldn’t find it in him to fall asleep again. 

\- -  
  
He knew some of it was the fear of what morning would bring. Back to her constant anger with him, her wanting to get away from him. Maybe it was deserved, maybe he’d stepped over a line this time, but...why did she have to lie next to him, give him a peaceful night like this?

This was hope-giving. This was the complete opposite of his plan. 

He saw the dawn light starting to rise outside the window. He had to get out of here. He had to get out of here now. 

The Doctor turned towards him, muttered in her sleep. He half-expected the start of another bad dream, but then she stilled again. 

“Master?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Yeah,” he said, voice raw. “I’m here.”

She scooted towards him, actually snuggling into his neck. His hearts skipped and just when he thought he couldn’t disbelieve the whole situation any more, she reached out and wrapped her arm around him, clinging onto him tightly. 

Then he noticed - the tension was back in her shoulders. The flashbacks were plaguing her again. 

He lifted his arm, stroking the back of her hair until she started to calm and drift back to sleep. 

Maybe both he and the innkeeper had been right. 

The Doctor didn’t want him. 

But she still needed him. 

And right now, that was the best he could hope for.


	8. News from Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I’m going to base some of the next few on some prompts that I received, but this was a plot bunny I had kicking around so thought I’d do that one first. Thanks for the reviews!

The Master finished the others off as quickly as possible, but Rassilon he saved for last. There was no way the founder of Gallifrey himself didn’t know what the Master now knew. 

He threw Rassilon down in front of the panopticon, pinning him down with a boot on his chest. “Talk!” he yelled. The rage was back in force in this new body. Good. He needed it, and they all deserved it. 

“What the hell have you done?” Rassilon cried, trying to turn his head to look out of the window at the smoke, the devastation. The Master forcefully shoved him back down. 

“I said, talk.” He ground his heel against the man’s collarbone, making it as hard for him to breathe as possible. His respiratory bypass would kick in soon, if the Master didn’t let up. 

He didn’t. 

“You’re the founder of our great and glorious Gallifrey, aren’t you? You know everything there is to know.” 

“What the hell are you getting at, you maniac-”

“The Timeless. Child.” The Master spit. Rassilon’s eyes went wide. The blood started to drain from his face. “Can’t even deny it, can you? You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Then, Rassilon’s face contorted in a smirk. He grabbed the Master’s ankle, not to yank him off but just to dig his nails in as he grinned. “And what about it? You’d have done the same, if you’d had the opportunity.”

The Master backhanded him, hard. “She was just a child! I was just a child when you DROVE ME TO THIS!”

“Drove you?” Rassilon let his arm drop back onto the floor, his words both breathy and spiteful. “You had a choice. You wanted to become a Time Lord. Didn’t you know the risks?”

The Master pushed harder, choking him for several long seconds. Rassilon coughed for a full minute when he let up. “Tell me one thing. Is the Timeless Child really - did they really become-”

“The Doctor.” Rassilon grinned at the way he flinched. “Aw. Poor thing. What’s the matter, Master? Don’t like that the strongest part of you is really your friend?” He leant up again, patting the top of the Master’s shoe like he was being comforting. “But didn’t you always know that it was? You’ve never bested the Doctor, not really. The Doctor wasn’t broken by the initiation like you were-”

“Shut up...”

“-the Doctor actually made something of themselves when he left Gallifrey, not like you-”

“Shut. Up.”

Rassilon leant up, even as the Master tried to pin him back down. “And I’ll bet knowing about this doesn’t stop the Doctor, either,” he said, eyes glinting. “You’ll never get to see them spare and forgive all of Gallifrey - you destroyed it first just so you didn’t have to, didn’t you?”

“Shut up!” The Master backhanded him again, and again, and again. Rassilon stared up at him through a swollen eye, still smiling. “Don’t you get it! It was ALL FOR NOTHING! Making me look into the Untempered Schism as a child, when what made a Time Lord came from - from - from them, all along, all this time!” He dragged Rassilon up, robes clenched in his fists. “You cost me EVERYTHING!” he roared. “My sanity! My life! You cost me the only person I ever loved!”

He stopped short. He hadn’t meant to say that. He didn’t mean that. 

But Rassilon was grinning, just as nastily as before. “I told you before, Master,” he said, resting his hands on the Master’s clenched, bloody fists. “We never did that. That was all you. After all, your dear Doctor never went mad, did they?”

The Master breathed heavily. His hands shook. He had no answer, except to shake his head over and over. 

“And I’ll tell you something else,” Rassilon said, wasted eyes boring into his own. “It isn’t what the Doctor is that separates you. It’s what she does. She’ll always be better than you because she chooses to be. And you’ll always be a murderous little child, missing his schooldays when he was the superior one. Such a shame. Such a waste.”

Rassilon leant in closer, speaking like he was savoring every awful word. “But go on. Put it all on us. Put it all on her. I can die happy knowing you have nothing, nothing, nothing, worth living for in your pathetic little life. And even then...I bet the Doctor still won’t kill you.” 

The Master shook his head again. It was another lie. Just another lie, like all the rest of them. 

The Doctor hadn’t gone mad because they loved the stars, and the universe. The Master didn’t, not the same way. Anyone who wasn’t her, wasn’t the Timeless, would have gone mad.

She was different. She was special. 

She lived again and died again, over and over, a star in the sky, a supernova. 

Just like...

“You can die,” the Master said, “When I say so.” He flung Rassilon to the floor, relishing that first bit of doubt in his eyes. “We have all your regenerations to get through,” he said, his voice soft. So far over the line now. No coming back. Never. “You’ll give the me the whole truth, whether you want to or not.”

He produced the TCE from his pocket. Back to the old ways. Why not. 

“And when we get to the last, you can die.” He waved the weapon in Rassilon’s face. Even then, the elder Time Lord wouldn’t flinch. So secure in his own wickedness. Far, far worse than the Master had ever been. The universe wouldn’t miss him. 

“You can be my trophy,” he said softly.


End file.
